


The Fuel to His Fire

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Prison, Reader-Insert, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:25:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	The Fuel to His Fire

He’s my husband.

But I don’t know what to say.

How do I not know what to say to my own husband?

He’s been in jail for three months - and he was innocent. There was no way he could be the same person anymore.

Did I even know him?

What if the Spencer Reid that came out wasn’t the same one that went in? I’m in love with him. Forever and always. What do we do?

As I was thrown around in a torrent of emotion, I saw a shadow creep down the hallways of the old concrete walls. The shadow of my husband still had its fluffy curls, barely contained by the brush he’d been allowed and when he turned the corner, the muscles in my shoulders relaxed slightly. 

His hair was a bit greasier than usual - and longer, but still very well-suited to his frame. Those brown eyes that I’d fallen for so many years ago were still there, but the skin around them was more sunken and pale. It was his body where I noticed the most changes - an array of bruises, from light blueish-green to faded purple to deep purple - and his weight. He was thin before, but the stress must’ve forced him down another five to seven pounds. He was on the brink of sickly. But it was over…at least outside these four walls. 

“Hi,” he said softly, reaching out to touch my hand. For three months, we’d been told no contact. It was like we were touching for the first time. Fingers were tentative, breaths hitched. He stepped forward, closing the space between us and leaned his head on mine. “I’m so sorry. I’ve…I’ve missed you so much.”

Tears were made of water. How did it make sense for them to burn? “I’ve missed you too. More than I can say.” 

The door back inside the prison slammed closed behind Spencer’s back, the guard making his way back to the inmates he was in charge of, as my husband jolted at the sound. Metal against metal. For more time than we thought, the two of us stood just outside the prison, swaying in each other’s arms. Spencer’s eyes started to get heavy. “We should go home.”

Was home the same as it was for him?

Barely five minutes after he’d gotten back to the apartment, Spencer had fallen asleep, but it was only two hours later that he woke up screaming. 

I expected this. I wasn’t prepared for the horror of it. But I did know it was going to happen. 

Cradling his head in my arms, I was able to lull him off to sleep again, but he woke up screaming twice more that night. 

The second he rolled over the next morning, he apologized.

“Baby, you don’t need to apologize,” I said softly, turning around in bed and wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. “I love you. You’re my husband and I’m here for you no matter what. We said through good and bad till death do us part, right?”

Slowly, he nodded, tears welling in his eyes as his lip quivered. “Yea,” he said, almost inaudibly, “but you don’t imagine something like this when you’re saying those words…you shouldn’t have to deal with this.” The shaking in his voice broke me. Who knew that having him home after three months in prison would hurt even more than his actually being there? He was free from those four walls, but was still trapped inside his own brain.

“What I should or shouldn’t have is irrelevant. What matters is that I love you and I am here no matter what you need. Okay?” I rubbed my head gently between his shoulder blades as he cried. My instinct was to comfort, or in other terms stop the crying, but he’d been through hell and back; he deserved to cry.

After nearly 15 minutes of shaky breaths and heaving sobs, he turned his head slightly and met my eye. When I moved to comfort him, I hesitated, not wanting to put any pressure on him, but he kissed me softly, lifting his hand to caress the side of my face. “I’ve missed you,” he said quietly. His eyes searched mine.

“Listen, I don’t want to pressure you in any way. I’ve missed you, but if you’re not ready for that just yet, there’s no pressure for you to be ready.” 

His brows unfurled. “B-but what if I am? What if I’ve missed this?”

“Then I’m here,” I whispered.

I got onto my hands and knees on the mattress and crawled toward him, pressing hesitant kisses on his collarbone, but he wanted more. With the hunger of a man starved, but scared, he rested his hands on the side of my face and pulled me close, gathering me into his lap, his eyes never leaving mine. “If at any point you want to stop, you let me know,” I said. 

He nodded and attempted to lift his hips slightly. After a few months in prison, his muscle tone was done, so he couldn’t do it. I quickly got out of his lap and tugged his pajama pants and boxers just low enough as was needed before climbing back onto him and placing my knees on either side of his body. 

With a deep breath, he kissed me, inhaling my breath like it was his own - like I was the fuel to his fire. God, I’d missed him. My first priority had been getting him out of prison, but the feeling of a cold bed next to me weighed heavily on my mind when I’d sleep. Feeling his warmth was a comfort in and of itself, despite the fact that there was a different weight affecting us now. 

Reaching down to my lower back, Spencer clasped the material of my night shirt and pulled it upward to reveal the bare skin underneath. I still hesitated. The idea that he might not have been ready for this still weighed heavily on my mind. “Please, Y/N,” he breathed. “I’ve missed you. I-I don’t know what’s real anymore. What’s here or there. But I know you. You’re real.”

As I sheathed myself on his length, sinking lower and lower until he was enveloped completely, tears pricked the corners of his eyes. I grasped his face in my hands and wiped away the tears as I kissed him, moving ever so slowly.

He groaned softly, so softly it almost wasn’t heard above the shallow creaking of the bed. His crying had been jagged, it’s unsteadiness scaring me; it was robbing him of breath, but as I moved, some semblance of normalcy returning to him, his breath evened out. 

I hesitantly picked up the pace, but he encouraged me, bearing down on my lower back with the palm of his hand. His hands gripped me so tightly. More tightly than ever before. It was like he said, he needed an anchor in the world and I was it. “Please,” he breathed. “Faster.”

Pushing up with my thighs, I bounced up and down more forcefully, throwing my head back and reveling in the sounds we were making. Nothing was spoken. It was desperate, but quiet. I was taking control, but he was in control. Each hitch of his breath, each small gasp directing my movements. “I’m going to…Y/N…I’m…”

“It’s okay,” I whispered. “Come for me. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

His hands slid up between my shoulder blades, fingers spread across the back of my neck and bringing me closer. “Y/N…fuck…” As he came, I rode out his high, kissing his face as the tears fell. It killed me to see him cry, but it was what he needed. “I’m sorry, that was so qui-”

“There is no need to apologize,” I replied. I gathered his face in my hands and continued kissing the tears away. “I just want to be here for you.” Gently, I removed myself from him and sat in his lap, leaning against his chest. “Returning to normal is going to take some time. But I’m here. Okay?”

When I turned to rest my forehead against his, the pad of my thumb wiped one final tear away from his eyes. This moment had been cleansed by tears. He released a long-held breath and pulled the blankets over us. “I love you, Y/N. I promise we’ll be okay. I’ll work hard. I promise.”

“Just focus on your recovery and we’ll work from there. Through the nightmares, the tears and the despair, remember? Till death do us part."


End file.
